The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1887-04-29

was finished, would go up to the con-
valescent old man, take him by the
arm and slowly walk round with him
in the ward.
Those who knew with what hard
ness of heart Dupuytren was in the
habit of treating his patients, were
lost in conjecture at the reason of this
sudden change in his conduct.
As soon as the priest was able to un-
dertake the journey, he took leave of
the good sisters and the doctor, and
went back to his village friends.
Not many months afterward, Dupuy-
tren, on arriving one morning at the
hospital as usual, caught sight of the
priest, who was already there, as he
advanced toward the ward of Saint
Agnes. The priest still wore his black
suit, but it was smothered in dust, and
his buckled shoes were quite white.
He had evidently come long way on
foot. On his arm was stout willow
basket, with its lids strongly strung
down, and from which issued stray
bits of straw. Dupuytren gave him
the best of greetings, and having as
sured himself that the results of the
operation had gone off well, inquired
of the old man what had brought him
to Paris again.
Doctor replied the priest, ''a
twelvemonth day for day has elapsed
since you operated upon me. I could
not let the 9th of May go by without
coming to see you, and / have brought
you little present. I've put into my
basket for you two fine fowls from my
own coop with some pears out of my
garden, because | know they are more
savory than those of Paris. But you
must promise me to taste atleast some
thing of all this"
Dupuytren shook him warmly by the
hand and tried to persuade the good
old man to stay and dine with him;
but the latter prayed to be excused,
though with reluctance. His time was
precious, he alleged, and he was
obliged to get back home as soon as
possible.
Another year and yet another
brought the little priest with his inev-
table basket and its contents on the
9th of May, and the doctor, each time.
received the aged ecclesiastic with
more visible emotion.
At about that time Dupuytrcn de-
tected the first symptoms of an illness
which all his science-and it was great
was unable to conjure. He started
for Italy, because the whole assembled
faculty of medicine persuaded him to
undertake the journey, but he knew he
had little hope to expect on this side
of the grave. His health, however,
seemed to have improved when he re-
turned to France in March, 1884; but
the improvement was only apparent, as
he well knew, and he felt that the end
was not far off.
His life grew darker and his heart
less expansive as the fatal term drew
near.
Perhaps in those last, melancholy
moments, the moral solitude and isola-
ton he had all along so cruelty pre-
pared for himself, and which now left
him face to face with his approaching
end, gave him a solemn warning.
Starting up in his bed, he hailed his
adopted son, who was watching in an
adjacent room and dictated the follow
ing letter:
My Dear Abbe-The doctor this time is in
need of you. Come quick, or it may be too
late. Your friend, DEPUYTREN.
The aged priest fastened to his bed
side and remained long time in con-
ference with the dying doctor. The
doors being closed, no one knows what
passed between them, but when the
able left the sick mans room, his eyes
were wet with tears, and his counte-
nance beamed with a serene exalta-
ton.
The day following, February 8, 1885,
Dupuyrten called in the Archbishop of
Paris, after which he laid his head on
his lone pillow and breathed his last.
From early morning on the day of
the funeral, thick gray clouds threw as
it were a mournful Grape over the face
of the sky. A drizzling rain mixed
with snow fell continuously, and froze
the large silent crowd gathered ON the
Place Saint-Germain lAuxerrois and
inside the spacious courtyard of the
house where the remains of the great
man lay in state. The church of Saint
Eustache could scarce hold the con-
course of people that followed the
hearse.
After Divine service, the coffin was
carried by his pupils all the way to the
cemetery.
The little priest walked behind, with
his eyes drowned in tears. -Nadar,
IN Albd7ag .ArquS.